The Sea Remains the Same

The Atkin Design Legacy

by

Daniel MacNaughton

Originally Published in WoodenBoat Magazine

This fine rendition of William Atkin's Fore An' Aft
design, shown without the topmast rigged, was built by Russell Dyer. The
lower photo gives a hint of her lines and indicates great promise of easy motion,
good course-keeping ability, and speed in a wide range of conditions.

WHEN WE bought Eric, our 32' Atkin ketch,
the man who sold her wept openly while he signed the papers under the kerosene
lights of her saloon. For us it was a deliriously happy day, but I knew exactly
how he felt. Many times since then I have reflected on the depth of the
relationships that he and I have had with this small and humble old boat,
and I think of how she has similarly enriched all her owners' lives. We'll
go on to discuss several aspects of the Atkin design legacy, but no other
point is more important. This deep and rewarding relationship with a boat is
just what the Atkins felt, and is exactly what they intended for us to feel
about their designs. All boats have personalities -- good, bad, bland,
obnoxious, noble, humble, proud, faithful, or treacherous. The Atkins knew
this. Almost every one of over 800 designs was referred to by a different
name, chosen by the designers as the boat was being drawn, and they wrote
with sincere emotion about all of the designs that saw print.

It seems to me that there are two major creative impulses that dominate
the field of yacht design: the ideal of Efficiency, and the ideal of
Romance. If a design is devoid of either quality, it is not as good as it
could have been. If the design is poorly conceived in a technical sense, all
the traditional gear and atmospherics in the world will only serve to
clarify the fact that she is a tub. If a boat is created only as a machine,
it will be cold, lifeless, and uninspiring -- whatever it's other virtues.
It was always important to the Atkins that their designs be technically
"right," but they also wanted the boats to be loved. Even their workboats,
military craft, and "modernist" boats had at least a taste of romance.

William and John Atkin pose in their new office a few years after World War II—at about the time John began working with his father.

Students of the Atkin designs should not make the mistake of looking at
some of the more well known boats and dismissing them as "character boats"
because of the gaff rigs, bowsprits, bulwarks, and what we now call
"traditional" character. Many of the boats were designed a long time ago, in
a small but lively marine culture still connected to its past, when such
features were modern and traditional at the same time. It is better to ask
why these designs have continued to have appeal to this day, and why William
and John were frequently called upon to produce variations on those same
designs years later. The answer might be that the boats were technically
excellent to begin with and also had a romantic appeal that never became
outdated -- a good enough definition of enduring quality in design. It
should be pointed out that none of the designs is purely romantic. Such
boats would quickly become tiresome in real-world use. On the contrary, the
most romantic looking of their designs serve to educate us as to the
real-life utility of older style gear and features, properly executed.

THE ATKINS are most famous for their handsome, heavy displacement double-
enders, but this is probably just because these boats have been the most
interesting to the most people for the longest time. Between them, in
careers spanning over 80 years, William and John produced 873 designs -- an
almost unmatched number for a firm which seldom employed draftsmen. Their
output included offshore and inshore cruising sailboats, racing and cruising
powerboats, rumrunners, luxury motor yachts, racing class sailboats,
Sea Bright skiffs, rowing and sailing skiffs, outboard boats, dories,
military craft, houseboats, and even a "Powered Snow Yacht". So, how would
we characterize them?

Spermaceti design
was built with slightly higher topsides than shown in the drawings. As with many
of Atkin's designs it is derived from the Sea Bright Skiff type. Notes from the
designer emphasize that the boat is rising to a sea in this picture, not
squatting.

First and foremost, the designs are competent. Both Atkins were hands-on
types. William started out running a productive boatbuilding yard. Both he
and John built boats from the time they were very young, continuing to do so
off and on throughout their lives. There was evolution in their thinking
about construction over the years, but they always had the builder in mind
and understood when to employ complex structures and when to keep things
simple. Unlike many designers they seldom if ever drew anything that
couldn't be built as drawn. The Atkins were always interested in new
materials and methods; and, with their lifelong involvement with marine
publishing, they had constant exposure to other people's ideas. Their work
evolved as a result, but they had to believe in a new feature before they
employed it.

The Atkins owned and used boats, beginning with William's first cruise in
1904 aboard an open power launch, and continuing through a series of modest
sail and power boats to the pulling boat
George, which John
enjoyed in his retirement. At one point William owned the sloop Great
Republic, made famous by Captain Howard Blackburn's singlehanded
transatlantic voyage. Later he designed and built the well-known
Ben Bow
for his own use. John and his wife Pat cruised for many years in
We're Here, a small motorsailer he designed and built. The
Atkins were not academics -- they understood the actual real-life impact of
every line and specification.

Vega is a big, tough,
simple boat which makes most
modern center-cockpit types look positively wimpy. Her no-nonsense interior has a
whole lot of room, including in the after cabin, which is by no means the usual
afterthought. Her half acre of deck space would be a boon to the liveaboard.

An Atkin boat always has at least a taste of salt to her, whether it be a
strong and vibrant theme as in their many ocean-going cutters, ketches, and
schooners with their universal air of confidence, ability, strength, and
dependability. Or it might be in something that catches the eye in a humble
sailing surfboard. In this quality of salt one senses that a vessel is not
just on the sea, but of it

I perceive a style in the Atkins' work -- not a consistent style, but
individualized quirks and nuances put into each design. This might exist
only in the shapes of the hull itself, which in a few cases are as much
artistic as practical, or in a sassy and unexpected window shape in a fast
motor boat -- or it could be just a certain combination of sheer, ends,
cabin trunk, and ports. It is identifiable in most of the boats, and it is
what ultimately defines their personality.

The Atkins designed a few very large yachts, but their primary interest
was in boats which were within the reach of average people. William and John
clearly liked to think of themselves as average people, and their writing
reveals an almost total boredom with wealth or status. This concern for
average people is not always immediately apparent to us nowadays, as we have
come to associate the idea of inexpensive or home-built boats with boxy
plywood craft. The Atkins never thought conventional types of wooden
boatbuilding to be beyond the ability of the amateur. Some of their designs
were made quite simple, for easy construction, and some were not, but the
assumption seems to have been that any builder's primary goal would be to
build a good boat -- and it was not supposed to be a cause of suffering! It
would seem that they understood the real cost of a boat is not determined on
the day she is launched, but on the day she is sold. A boat that is
beautiful, inspiring, rugged, and long-lived may well bring more dollars
when she is sold than she cost to build A different sort of boat might bring
next to nothing

Measuring only 18' on deck, Retreat
is the smallest of a number of charming Atkin houseboats. While few would choose
to carry their minimalism this far, perhaps she will provide some assurance that
there is a good life to be had on the water, no matter how tough times might get.

WILLIAM ATKIN began his career in 1906, at age 24, in Huntington, Long
Island -- a time when Huntington was rural, pretty, and unspoiled. In
August of that year, he and his 19 year-old friend Cottrell Wheeler acquired
a 30' x 50' boatbuilding shop which had formerly belonged to Charles G.
Sammis, and which they always referred to as The Red Boat Shop. It is
unclear what the arrangements were, but Sammis and his son Percy continued
to work for the firm of Atkin & Wheeler.

There then followed a period of intense activity and equally intense
enjoyment, during which friendships which would last Atkin the rest of his
life were firmly cemented. Atkin said of this time, "Cottrell Wheeler and I
found ourselves in the business of building small custom built motor boats;
'launches' these were likely to be called in those far-away free days. The
boat shop was at the creek-side at the head of the harbor at Huntington,
...and a grand place it then was. The air fragrant, and the harbor and creek
water so clean we fished for smelt and mackerel from the boat shop windows,
while landlubber Isaac Waltons cast their flies for brook trout less than a
half a mile upstream. Huntington Harbor was a delightful place in those good
days.

"It is doubtful whether any two young men embarking on life's uncertain
path ever had as much fun while working as we. Building boats for
individuals took on the aspects of a pastime rather than an occupation. This
was a happy way to begin what has turned out to be a long vocation...

Atkin & Wheeler got its start in Huntington
Long Island, when the two young men bought the yard of Charles G. Sammis.
Thereafter it was always referred to as The Red Boat Shop, and it was the scene
of remarkable productivity and valued friendships to which William Atkin would
frequently refer throughout his career.

"We had friends, Cottrell and I; among these George A. Fairfield of
Minneola, New York, and Roswell Davis of Middletown, Connecticut. The former
M.I.T., 1903 or thereabouts, a civil engineer; the latter M.I.T. about a
year later, with a degree to practice naval architecture. You might say
these two were friends of the shop and that the place had a community of
interest for the four of us not ever likely to be repeated this side the
rolling Jordan, and certainly not among the ownership and clientele of our
modern quantity-production boat shops.

"I am afraid we were not very efficient -- but we had grand times; the
boats came a-pace and we were very happy..."

He would frequently return to Huntington days in his writing over the
years, recalling his own youth, that of Huntington, and the younger days of
yachting. It's difficult to write about the personality of someone whom one
has never met, but one thing is clear. William Atkin was the kind of man
people liked, and who valued friendship. Fame never changed this. His
writing addressed many aspects of the world of boats over the years, but
woven throughout was a belief in simple pleasures, and chief among these was
friendship.

At first glance, a miniature schooner built to the
Coot design might seem to be something of a toy; but one of the
boats, the 27'2" Nakomis, has debunked that idea, with many
successful high-latitude and transoceanic voyages to her credit.

ATKIN & WHEELER was ideally situated both geographically and
historically, for they designed and built about 19 boats in this shop. The
first was Rosetta V, a 40' bridge-deck power cruiser for Dr.
Ferdinand Valentine, a specialist in "the diseases of wayward men."
Reminiscences about the time mention long hours and hard work, but not the
economic problems that plague many new boatbuilding shops. Their proximity
to New York must have placed them in a lively economy, and despite their
youth and a lack of credentials, they attracted a great deal of business. It
is notable that they were apparently building only boats which Atkin
designed -- an even greater leap of faith on the part of their customers,
and it can only be explained by the fact that even the earliest designs must
have been good.

For the most part, the early boats were power driven, apparently to
satisfy an intense demand for boats of that type. The marine press, for the
next couple of decades, seems to have been preoccupied with power boats much
as was Atkin & Wheeler. It seems likely that many people were of the
belief that power would largely replace sail. It probably took a while for
everyone to realize that while some would immediately choose the speed and
luxury of power when it became available. Others would find plenty of reason
to stick with sail-powered yachts.

Here is the 18' Gretchen,
an inshore tabloid cruiser
with very shoal draft and some Dutch styling overtones. The raised deck provides
sitting headroom that can be used in lean-back comfort. The leeboards allow shoal
draft (17") without the complication and interior obstruction of a centerboard
trunk.

Sailboat design in general went through some changes, too, first in order
to accommodate auxiliary engines, and then to cope with the implications of
them. Many cruising sailboat designs from the early part of the century have
been roundly criticized for lack of windward ability (and a few Atkin
designs are of this type), but it appears that for a while many people
believed that no one who could power to windward, would choose to sail. And
there is a certain logic to that, although ultimately cruising sailboats as
a rule retained windward ability, and in fact later on became obsessed with
it. In my opinion, the average contemporary cruising boat is entirely
designed around windward ability, and sometimes sacrifices a great deal to
that end. Of course she is also typically powered to windward -- just one of
the absurdities of our modern age.

At first Atkin seems to have been interested primarily in high speed
power boats, but after a few years his interest switched to cruising boats
of both power and sail. It might be that successfully competing in
increasingly high-tech racing powerboat design quickly became too expensive
for a small shop to handle, or it might be that the appeal of other types of
boats was just too strong to resist.

The Red Boat Shop provided a good starting point, but it had been
constructed for earlier boatbuilders who used no power tools. Atkin &
Wheeler wanted to take advantage of technological advances which had come
along, and stationary power tools of the day took up considerable floor
space. So in 1912 they designed and built The New Shop, a 50' x 80' building
with two floors and a basement, a machine shop, an improved dock, a 10-ton
crane, and a railway that had water at any stage of the tide, thanks to a
dredged channel. The new building, designed by Atkin, suspended the second
floor from the roof structure to allow plenty of unobstructed space on the
first floor -- a feature considered radical by local critics, but which
proved to be successful. Here they built 31 boats, ranging from an 18'
hydroplane to the 115' express cruiser Cabrilla. It seems
there was nothing that Atkin & Wheeler didn't dare to tackle, for they
not only designed and built Cabrilla herself, but her twin
750-hp V8 engines and transmissions as well, not something the average local
boat shop would expect to do today!

Morning Star, a gaff-rigged sloop, was built to William Atkin's
Dolly Varden design. Both
Atkins' small cruising boats very seriously. Scores of such designs explored almost
every possible variation, and all share the sense of authenticity and charm
displayed in this example.

Charles and Percy Sammis continued to work for Atkin & Wheeler, along
with an enlarged crew, and production grew to match the capacity of the new
business. But it was a move that tripled their overhead, and Atkin would
ultimately regret it. Under the heading, "This Business of Growing Larger,"
he wrote: "And, to make a worse picture of it all, the workmanship and
materials of the little Red Shop were equal, if not superior, to that
produced by the new one. Over a very long period of time my experience has
been, and is, that the small boat-building establishment in which the 'boss'
works with two or three hired hands is by every measure of value a far
better place to patronize than any shop of pretentious character; and,
furthermore, that these small shops are able to build boats of superior
design and of better quality for less money than not only the larger custom
builders, but the 'rush-'em-through' builders of the so-called 'stock
cruisers' as well." Sentiments with which the author wholeheartedly agrees.

IN THE same year that the New Shop was built, Atkin allowed himself to be
convinced to write an article for The Rudder magazine on the
technical aspects of the high speed powerboats gathered in Huntington for
the Harmsworth trophy races. It was the beginning of a lifelong involvement
with marine writing, and while he was always a naval architect first, he was
a marine writer second, to a greater degree than any other designer of his
time.

The 115' motoryacht Cabrilla, designed
by William Atkin and built by Atkin & Wheeler, represented quite an
accomplishment for a small yard and young designer.

Boats seem to inspire more writing and analysis than almost any other
field of interest, and the use of boats and what is written about them seem
to be so tangled up together that it is difficult to say whether, for many
people, boat ownership is primarily a physical or an intellectual activity.
Perhaps such an intermingling of science, fantasy, and nature is what is
meant by "romance." However that may be, Atkin obviously loved to write
about all aspects of boats, especially the romantic appreciation of the
boats themselves, and the people and places with which they were associated.
Those accustomed to strictly analytical writing may at first be baffled by
apparent contradictions in William Atkin's writing. He seems to say that
first one type of boat or boat detail is better, then another. The fact is
that he loved many different types of boats, for different purposes -- a
perspective which will seem logical to any non-specialized naval architect,
but which may be confusing to the newcomer to boats who is looking for "the
right answer." The net effect of Atkin's writing is to broaden one's
interest, deepen one's appreciation of the right boat for the right job, and
heighten one's enjoyment of sincerity and good character wherever it is
found. William Atkin always addressed his reader as "Shipmate" -- a
personal, human perspective, not a lofty scientific one. Without the
writing, William Atkin would still have been one of the most popular yacht
designers of his time. With the writing, he was the most beloved.

Atkin also designed the Cabrilla's
two 750-hp engines.

The firm of Atkin & Wheeler lasted until the first world war, but
ceased operations at that time, for reasons unknown. All Atkin says about it
is, "Our work had been the designing and building of pleasure craft, for
which wars allow no time or energy." Presumably there was war-time
boatbuilding to be done, but it may be that the transition simply came too
soon after their commitment to the larger shop for them to survive -- not
the first or last time that politics would heavily impact small boatbuilding
shops.

During the war, William Atkin served as editor of Yachting
magazine -- quite an achievement for a young boatbuilder with little
publishing experience, and it was something which he evidently enjoyed, for
there then followed a period of intense involvement with marine publishing.
After three years at Yachting he joined the staff of MotorBoat
(not to be confused with Motor Boating) as technical editor,
beginning a happy association with Editor William Nutting, for whom he
designed the well known ketch Typhoon, in 1920.

Typhoon measured 45' on deck. She was apparently intended
to demonstrate Atkin's and Nutting's concepts for a faster boat than others
of her size, as her proportions are radically different than typical boats
of her day. She was extremely fine forward, and indeed could almost be said
to be "all entrance" clear back to amidships. She had a very straight run
and an unusually broad transom, thus completely breaking with any
traditional notion of "balance" between the forward and after shapes of the
hull.

On her maiden voyage, she made an extremely fast transatlantic passage
from Baddeck, Nova Scotia to Cowes, England. She covered the 2,777 nautical
miles in 22 days, 1 hour, and 22 minutes, in a headlong rush before strong
fair winds -- the weather being due as much credit for the speed of the
passage as the design, perhaps. Typhoon received much
attention in the marine press, but Atkin didn't continue to work with the
hull type. Virtually all of his subsequent designs retained a "balanced"
hull form in which the after body was not much fuller than the forebody, as
is commonly said to be desirable for good motion and handling in storm
conditions, but it is never said that Typhoon was deficient in
these respects.

In 1920 William Atkin designed Typhoon
for William Nutting, editor of MotorBoat magazine. Nutting sailed the 45'
ketch transatlantic, from Nova Scotia to England, in little more than 22 days.

During the MotorBoat period, Atkin continued to work independently
at his design work, and examples appeared not just in MotorBoat, but
in the other major magazines as well. Among other types, he had made a
considerable study of the Sea Bright rowing and power skiffs of the New
Jersey shore, for which he had great admiration. He and John would continue
to design variations on this very useful type for the rest of their careers.

The Sea Bright type evolved for use by the local fishermen. There being few
harbors, it was necessary for the boats to be launched off the beach and to
return to the beach, every day. While they were round-bilged boats, instead
of a conventional centerline structure they had a narrow flat bottom like a
dory. The boats always had broad transoms, but the bottom came to a point at
both ends, forming a hollow skeg or "box garboard", aft. They would thus
remain upright on the sand, and could be dragged around or moved on rollers
with ease, and with little wear and tear.

By coincidence, the basic form was well suited to inboard power, and when
gasoline engines appeared the Sea Brights quickly adopted them, with little
modification to the basic boat except a subsequent gradual increase in size.
The flat bottom made it easy to install the engine, and when the box garboard
was made slightly deeper, it's after end made an ideal place for the shaft to
exit the hull. Using a two bladed prop, the boats retained their beachability
-- all that was necessary was to remember to turn the propeller blades sidewise
before hitting the beach.

Ultimately the Atkins were to design just about every conceivable variation
on the type, from historically correct beach boats to large sailing and power
yachts which in no way resemble the originals except in the configurations of
their hull structure. One of the most important variations appeared first in the
form of Mischief, published in 1921. She was the first Sea Bright
to incorporate hard chines, and straight bottom sections which, in their
progression from forward to aft, warped from a truncated "V" shape forward to an
"A" shape aft, creating a recessed, protected area for the propeller, and a very
shallow draft hull that offered good speed. William and John were to design many
boats of this type over the years, and it remains one of the best ways to create a
healthy, ultra-shoal-draft powerboat.

John Atkin did a lot of surveying. With his lifelong
exposure to yacht design, construction, and cruising, he was uniquely qualified for
this vocation. His surveying work helped him to design structures that were
strong and resistant to deterioration.

A SERIES of events, which began in 1923, was to have a major impact on
Atkin himself, and his career. Discussions with Nutting led to a design
concept for Eric, a 32'
double-ender based on the 47' Colin Archer designed Redningskoite, a Norwegian
sailing rescue craft. She was to become Atkin's single most popular cruising
boat design (see related story). Unfortunately, Nutting chose
not to have Atkin finish the design, and instead purchased Leiv
Eiriksson, an existing Norwegian boat of similar overall type, but which
may have been different in many important details. In any event, the vessel was
lost without a trace along with Nutting and his crew, on the way home from Norway.

The impact on Atkin must have been considerable, and the event is
mentioned often in subsequent writing, but never in a tragic light. In
print, he romanticized his friends' deaths, weaving them into a bittersweet,
poetic, and mystical portrait of the sea. Among other things he did a
portrait of Leiv Eiriksson in silhouette, showing her clearly
identifiable crew, afloat and alive. He wrote, "One of these autumn days,
Leiv Eiriksson will come in with the northeast wind behind
her; she will come up the Sound, and the air will be crisp by then. I
sometimes think it might be well for those who keep their boats in late to
save a full four fingers of something that is strong, and drink this down
standing (if there is headroom) to appease the anger of the Gods. They may
not fancy the temerity of anyone who attempts to retrace the sea path of an
ancient Viking -- no not even though he be a thousand years behind. On after
thought, a tumblerful might be much better...

"For God, and the rest of us, now know that it is no light task to
traverse the seas of the North... Old Neptune and his handmaidens splashing
about in Davis Strait must have remarked upon [this] modern white-hulled
Norse craft splashing through his sea. How long a time, he must have mused,
had bandled by since the Dragon and the Long Serpent pressed on to make the land? Aye, a full thousand years for sure!

"Perhaps he smiled -- or swore.

"At any rate his handmaidens hit their stride; and somewhere there in the
Northern sea the Leiv Eiriksson lies silently, while her crew
sleeps on forever.

"And it is all too bad. Children, widows left; and an epic of ocean
cruising unwritten! But that, reader, is the way of the sea."

William Atkin in later years. Both Atkins enjoyed a deep and warm
affection for good people and good boats. William's special talent was evoking those feelings in a form that people of modest means could make their own.

There are no visible changes in the nature of Atkin's work which can be
specifically attributed to the loss of Leiv Eiriksson, but it
is notable that the design for Eric was finished up anyway,
and her design went on to become famous as a tough and dependable offshore
voyager. Indeed, while both Atkins' work was too broad to be narrowly
categorized, they have always been best known for their staunch and reliable
offshore cruising sailboats, which while they were no more immune to the
consequences of human error than any other boat, were as unlikely to perish
by the forces of the sea as any ever designed. Still it seems as though a
part of William Atkin was always waiting for Leiv Eiriksson to
make port, and even when he doesn't refer to her directly, she seems to
remain in the background of much of his poetic writing:

The Atkins are better known for their sailboat
designs, but John on particular was good with rugged cruising powerboats such
as Namaki.king those
feelings in a form that people of modest means could make their own.

"I address this to one of my Shipmates;

"An incessant song has been with me this last year. Every leaf sings it;
and the tide as it runs down the channel.

"As I love the sea; so I love the land. I know where the wood violets
grow as well as where the eddies flow.

"Quite true, Shipmate.

"One wanders through a Paradise when recollections come drifting by; one
gathers fragrancies from these. Why yes, Shipmate, it is all like some magic
book. We come thus far, and suddenly the covers close! Thenceforth we
conjecture for the morrows.

"It is like looking straight down a narrow lane of trees, on either hand
foliage, and the same overhead, but at the far end there is an arched
opening showing grain bowing before the south wind, which appears very much
like the sea. We know quite well what we have passed through; but are not so
sure of the voyage ahead.

"Somehow as we cruise around we become more and more confident;
difficulties confront us, adverse winds, bad tides, yet never do we consider
foundering. And this is well and good. And we are not afraid to look beyond
the bowing grain or the crest of some tremendous sea...

"And thus it is that we look confidently into the days beyond the
horizon. We are... quite unafraid of the voyage before us. For the tides may
ebb and flood, and the winds may come and go, and just the same shall we
sail through a Paradise of recollections and of faith in days to come, with
the fragrancies of all the seas for company.

"Quite true, Shipmate."

IN THE spring of 1925, three sister ships built to the Eric design were
launched, and named Freya, Valgerda, and
Eric. Of them, Atkin wrote as they were building:

"It is a long, long voyage from Lyngor, on the south coast of Norway, to
Huntington Harbor. But if you will walk across the Mill Dam Road at the head
of Huntington Harbor in the half light of the evening you will have a
momentary thrill which will carry your fancies abroad; for, just as sure as
anything, there looms the silhouette of a skoite, in frame, with two others
nearby.

Pat and John Atkin cruised Long Island Sound in
We're Here, an economical displacement-hull motorboat with sails.
At the time of this photo, she belonged to Mike and Shirley Dagostino and had
been renamed Shirley Mae.

"About this time the lights of a passing motor car will disclose the
terrain as being quite a part of Long Island. What in the dusk seem to be
bold rocks, with lagoons between, prove to be thatch bog, showing bare when
the tide is at half ebb; what sounds like water lapping on the stones is the
overflow from the mill pond pouring through the flume; [but] what seems to
be a skoite in frame, with two others nearby, is a skoite, and the other
two, her sisters."

Clearly he felt some of what we now call "closure," in the realization of
the boat which he and Nutting had planned, and which he must have fervently
wished that Nutting had built instead of making his date with destiny.

The yard which built the three Erics was that of Richard B.
Chute. With that project it became Chute & Bixby. Mr. Bixby was
apparently a businessman who financed the three boats, which were built on
speculation, with two of them being sold while under construction. Chute
& Bixby went on to build a great many Atkin boats through the years.

After the loss of Nutting, MotorBoat magazine lost its appeal to
Atkin. He ceased working there and began the series of articles and designs
for Motor Boating, edited by Charles F. Chapman, which continued for
many years and were reprinted in the Motor Boating
Ideal Series, a
collection of designs and articles in book form, in over 40 volumes. It is
at this point that the amazing pace and productivity of Atkin's work habits
become most obvious, because throughout this time period, he produced a
complete design with commentary for every issue of Motor Boating,
while at the same time he drew commissioned designs for other customers, all
without assistance until his son John joined him at the work, after World
War II. He did most of the work at night, and offers us this picture of his
routine: "Somehow I cannot get started on any sort of work early in the day.
When the sun first comes I sleep in peace and let the early world go by. And
then when the sun finally gets up steam and warmth I always have to sit
around and worship its fragrancies; and then, like enough, I acquire an urge
that cannot be easily set aside, to go and look out across the Sound. By
this time it is noon. There will be a raft of letters heaped on the pile
that has been collecting on my desk for the last week, and I am constrained
to reply to these. By sunset, I sharpen pencils, pin down a clean sheet of
paper and draw, and draw, and draw."

Probably no other designers have lavished as much
attention on flat-bottomed skiff as the Atkins.
Willy Winship
measures 13' 9" in length and carries 92 sq ft of sail.

WILLIAM ATKIN began his own magazine in 1926. Fore An' Aft
(subtitled "A cruising magazine conceived by cruising men and dedicated to
cruising.") was a sincere and appealing journal devoted to cruising in small
yachts -- it covered boats of no more than 50' in length. The publisher was
Henry Bixby, of Chute & Bixby. Most issues contained Atkin designs and
articles, along with those of other designers and articles by cruising
people. It shared a feature with some other magazines of the day, in that
every issue had the same cover -- something no circulation manager or
designer would allow, nowadays! It also did not sell advertising in the
usual way. No one was allowed to advertise whose products Atkin did not feel
he could personally recommend -- a degree of idealism not seen since. An
interesting service was the "Shopping Department." The idea was that anyone
desiring to purchase anything relating to boats could contact the magazine,
which would determine what was the best item of that sort available,
providing it to the reader at a reasonable cost, while retaining a markup.
The magazine was thus a sort of universal catalog. Typical of the honest
charm of Fore An' Aft was the "Shopping Department Ad," a full page
containing only the following words: "The Shopping Department. If you want
anything, let us know."

It was a fine magazine, a handsome magazine, aimed at a narrow audience,
and with few advertisers -- not the usual formula for success, but it went
forward in apparent good health until the spring of 1929, when it skipped a
few issues, reappeared under different ownership and with no trace of
William Atkin, and then ceased to exist. It is possible that like so many
magazines it simply failed due to an insufficiency of advertising and other
income and high expenses, or it may be that once again the course of
national events simply overwhelmed it, along with so much else.

John Atkin's popular
Little Maid of Kent
design describes a schooner of just 30' in length. This example was owned by
Irving Giese, and was photographed in Ascona, Switzerland.

Another attempt at a regular publication came in 1947, with the first volume of The Book of Boats, which was to be a quarterly publication,
in book format. Two volumes were printed, and publication then ceased, but
they were subsequently reprinted. In the introduction was this
characteristic statement by William Atkin: "Perhaps in the bewilderments of
a modern world where almost everything is highly appraised because of its
huge size, its gaudy expanse of chromium plate, its marvelous complication,
its industrial streamlining, its tremendous popularity, and the noisy
ballyhooing accompanying it all, the wholesome, plain and genuine character
of The Book of Boats series will fill a place in the cabin book
shelves which has many years been empty." Atkin had obviously now found that
his work was contrasting with what I would call "modernist" trends in
design. The Atkins occasionally indulged in "modern" flights of fancy, such
as one speedboat which very strongly resembles a '57 T-Bird, but in general
it would seem that they saw their work as a logical continuation of unbroken
evolution and refinement of concepts defined not by stylists, but by the sea
itself, the constant around which they worked.

Designed by William Atkin and built in
Darien, Connecticut, after the 1938 hurricane destroyed the Atkin home and
office on Pratt's Island, Anchordown combined nautical and light art-deco themes.
It still stands, as a private residence in a prosperous suburb.

DESIGNS AND articles came in a steady stream through the Great
Depression, and there can be no doubt that Atkin's sincere devotion to small
boats and economical yachting, combined with his romantic and lyric
descriptions of the simple pleasures of life with the water, must have
endeared him to thousands of readers, for whom he made such happinesses
possible, or at least imaginable, helping to relieve the heavy burdens of
hard times. John Atkin began to assist his father around this time, and his
first published design, the dory Active, appeared in The
Rudder magazine in 1937.

The 1938 hurricane, arriving as it did without warning, hit the Atkin
household very hard. Their home on the eastern tip of Pratt's Island on Long
Island Sound was utterly destroyed, along with the design office and many
plans, and William and Dorcas Atkin and their sons William, Jr., and John
had to swim for their lives at the height of the storm. These events are
described with characteristic avoidance of the tragic aspects of the
calamity, but much that was of value to the family and to posterity was
lost. Fortunately most of the original plans were stored at William's
mother's house in New Jersey. A new office named Anchordown was soon built
in Noroton, Connecticut, to plans by Atkin which combined nautical elements
with contemporary ideas of modernity, in an appealing design with a flat
roof, glass block windows, a blue neon light over the front door, round-
cornered doors, etc. Originally built in a rural area, the building, which
still exists, is now surrounded by a sophisticated Connecticut suburb.

If there is a simple boat that can offer the
Herreshoff 12 1/2 some competition for the title of best small keel daysailer,
Teach might be it.
Her large stern deck gives a secure feeling and
helps to ensure that crew weight will be kept amidships where it belongs in
such a small boat, and there is a lot of useful space for seating a small crowd
or cruising with a boom tent. Her double-ended character is something out of
the ordinary, and combined with the long keel, ample ballast, and easily
handled rig, she will be a reliable and reassuring boat to sail.

NO ONE has done more to romanticize yachting in an appropriate way than
William Atkin, but that romanticism did not extend to war. The design named
Jerry Colemore
got its name from a young man from England who was a close friend of the Atkin
family. On the outbreak of the second world war, his parents insisted that he
do the honorable thing, and he returned to England to join the RAF, leaving
behind his American friends and an old Friendship sloop named the Irving
D. Olson. To the Atkin family's great grief, he was promptly killed in
action. In his article on the boat named for his young friend, Atkin indicates
that he felt that an indolent life on the Olson might have been
better than an honorable death at the age of 19.

In the years preceding his own direct involvement in the war, John Atkin
worked as a draftsman first at the Consolidated Shipyard, and then at the
Luders yard, where he worked for more than four years. Eventually he served
in the Pacific as a civilian, on an oceangoing tug. At the Atkin office,
William's war years were largely occupied in designing tugs, patrol boats,
and the like, along with a steady stream of yachts. For once, the firm
employed draftsmen, with Nils Olhman, Danny Potter, and Bob Hamilton serving
in that capacity. There is a design for a 7'6" sailing pram done by John
during his free time, and planned around materials available aboard his
ship, upon whose deck it was built. It is named
Saipan, after
the place John was writing from at the end of the war, with a wonderful
description of the celebration of victory among the fleet. In William
Atkin's published presentation of the design, one can sense the intense
relief which was flooding the whole world at the time.

Ninigret (22' LOA) is one of John
Atkin's most popular bass boats. Her cuddy features a removable canvas top, and
offers comfortable seating away from the fishing action, a couple of berths when
wanted, and the option of a more-or-less private head.

John Atkin joined the design office after the war, and brought with him
an infusion of youthful vigor, new ideas, superb drafting skills, and an
artistic talent which if anything, exceeded that of his father. With both of
them working, they had planned to reduce the number of days they worked,
after the war, so as to spend more time relaxing on the water. Unfortunately
the inflation and high taxes of the postwar period made this impossible, and
work continued at a fast pace.

It is interesting to compare the work of the two men. John's lettering
shows a firmer hand and more style than William's, and his drafting is more
precise. It reproduces better, due to more careful attention to the weights
of the lines. John's designs tend to have springier sheers and more careful
attention to "style" beyond function and convention. But there was little
attempt to keep their work separate, and it is impossible to say with
absolute accuracy who did what. Some designs appear to be John's concepts
with drawings and some details done by William, and some the other way
around. Some designs were published under William's name that appear to have
been drawn by John, and the author is of the opinion that at least a couple
of descriptions were written by John in William's style, and published as
William's. But it was clearly a close cooperation, so these things are to be
expected, as frustrating as they might be to historians. Naturally William
was beginning to slow down, after hundreds of designs and decades of
extraordinary productivity, and gradually his volume of work receded and
John's became predominant. William Atkin died in August of 1962 .

William Atkin always toyed with the idea of
moving to Maine. This Banks dory named Pemaquid
is one of design
that he drew with the Maine coast in mind. She has about as much sail as an
unmodified dory form needs or can carry, and she also has a small inboard
engine and some outside ballast. This is a simple boat with a lot of room and
real rough-water ability. It might be nice to add some flotation, as she is
all open.

IN MY opinion, John Atkin was if anything a better designer than his
father, and it would certainly please William that it be so. William is
perhaps more famous, but this is probably because he was nearly as much of a
writer as he was a designer, so his work always benefited from a thorough
description on both a technical and an emotional level, making it easy for
an unusually wide range of readers to understand it and feel the love he put
into it. William worked at incredible speed, and while his boatbuilding
experience prevented him from drawing things which couldn't be built (a
common problem among designers) occasionally some of the details and
concepts were not as good as the others were. It is evident that John took a
great deal more time with each design -- every drawing is a work of art, and
every line of every boat seems to have been drawn with the greatest of care.
Absorbing William's romanticism, he enhances it; the sheer lines "sing" a
bit more melodically, and the personalities of the designs are a bit more
clearly defined. John could write very well, too, when he wanted to, and he
revisits the feel and phraseology of his father's writing now and again, but
in general the writing is crisper, more modern, and not as sentimental.

Still, it is a seamless "join" from one man's career to the other, and
themes which saw their origin in the father's work in the early years of the
century are clearly visible in the son's work decades later.

John Atkin drew the fine little schooner
Florence Oakland,
only 22'5" on deck, for an Ohio man who wanted a traditional, trailerable
daysailer. Nearly 100 sets of plans for the sheet plywood boat have been sent
to builders.

When custom boatbuilding was the rule, so was custom design. But the
advent of fiberglass construction reduced the demand for cruising boat
design, and a generalized, if temporary, lack of respect for traditional
forms and detailing further served to make yacht design a less dependable
way of making a living than it had ever been before. John Atkin never
stopped designing until his retirement, but there were lean times as well as
prosperous times. Besides a few hundred boat designs, he drew a number of
houses for the area surrounding Anchordown, including one that he and his
wife Pat built for themselves, next door, and in which they still live. The
house designs show the same competence with traditional detail as the boat
designs, and the same artistic flair. Atkin also did considerable work as a
marine surveyor.

Probably John's most famous design is
Maid of Endor, a
heavy displacement tabloid cruising sloop, gaff rigged with a bowsprit, a
small cabin trunk, and a strong, sweeping sheer. She is rugged in all her
details and supremely seaworthy, and loaded with emotion and artistry, but
don't ever call her a "character boat" for that is a term John hated. He
drew his boats to be the best expressions of their individual concepts that
he could create. Their character is just one part of the equation.

As we have noted previously, one must remember that many of the "old-
fashioned" boats designed by William were, in fact, perfectly modern when
they were drawn. They have simply remained popular for so long that they
make us nostalgic when we look at them. On the other hand, to satisfy demand
John was working in many of the same design themes and concepts after they
had acquired these associations. Therefore the nostalgic references in his
designs are more clearly focused, and more carefully calculated, to good
effect. His exceptionally deep and broad background enabled him to execute a
wide range of older types with complete competence, so that everything works
properly, and each design runs true to type throughout. Likewise, he didn't
take modern hulls and stick traditional details on them for a cheap effect,
as have some recent designers. As John has put it, "I am not keen about the
term 'character boat,' the original heading for [this] type of design...
because it's been my observation that most any weird creation is likely to
be placed in this category. I suspect that people who refer to character
boats are often making the distinction between traditional cruising vessels
and racing boats.

Shore Liner is an inshore cruising
boat with a lot of room for daysailing and usable sitting headroom below. She'll
float in 1' of water. A flat-bottomed, centerboard boat, she will be comfortable
when grounded out on the mud. She'll never need a cradle, and she will go on and
off a trailer better than just about anything. With her mast in a tabernacle,
it's easy to imagine her finding her way to the furthest inland reaches of
navigable water.

"While we have seen great changes in all forms of endeavor these past 30
years, the transitions throughout the yachting field have been tremendous.
Though I don't necessarily like all boats, I have a deep appreciation of
virtually all of them; from the latest so-called 'cruiser-racer' (or is it
'racer-cruiser'?)... to the high-speed powerboats of Miami-Nassau fame --
all have admirable ability in fulfilling their intended purpose.

"But there are other purposes, those especially of the people for whom I
do design work. My observation is that owners of traditional cruising boats
are fundamentally genuine, sincere, quiet gentlemen from all walks of life.
Their most predominant characteristic would be individuality, a trait that
is apparently fading in this great, corporate land in which we live.

"These people do not base their existence on efficiency or the need to
win races. Their aim appears to be incorporating the best that has been
proven in the past -- tradition, in a word -- for use in the present. They
aim at creating a yacht, power or sail, which combines comfort and the
ability to behave, to take care of herself and her crew with a minimum of
effort under all -- or very nearly all -- conditions."

John is said to have drawn several well known designs which appeared
under other people's names, the Matthews Sea Sailor among
them. He seldom employed draftsmen, but one notable exception was the young
Jay Benford, who went on to become a famous designer in his own right.

Starting with the Colin Archer-inspired
Eric, both Atkins put considerable emphasis on the evolution of
double-ended offshore cruising boats. Skuld a fine example of
John Atkin's Vixen design,
has straighter sides and narrower beam than the original-for better speed.

John Atkin also wrote a series of articles for Boat magazine,
under the heading "Around the Shop Fire", using the name John Davenport (his
middle name), to avoid conflict with Motor Boating, which he regarded
as a vital business connection.

John's last design before retirement was a flat bottomed pulling boat for
his own use, hearkening back to the many boats of this basic form which he
and William drew over the years. She is, as one would expect, the ultimate
expression of that form. She is design No. 873, named
George,
after a little Norfolk terrier who has been John's and Pat's constant
companion, and who worked with me some, in preparing for this article. He is
visible in the drawings, his head just projecting above the rail.

Those of us who spend much of our lives immersed in the world of wooden
boats are apt to ignore the rest of the boating world, and when we are so
fortunate as to live in a part of the world which has not been much impacted
by the tremendous pressures which are transforming so many waterfronts, as I
do, the things that are happening elsewhere can seem somewhat unimportant.
Here on the coast of Maine, we are apt to be very satisfied with the
direction in which things seem to be moving -- everywhere there are small
shops building some of the finest wooden boats ever produced. It is all very
comfortable.

When I travel elsewhere, however, I am always disheartened by the harbors
I find, full as they are of ugly, boring, inferior, and unsafe boats, and
the people who work so hard to acquire and own them, often spending more on
boats in a year than I have spent in my lifetime, and seemingly getting so
little out of it.

The Atkins are better known for their sailboat
designs, but John on particular was good with rugged cruising powerboats such
as Namaki.

It would seem that for many people today boats are just "recreational
vehicles," different from motorhomes or dirt bikes only in that they move on
the water instead of on the road, and comparable one to another only as
lists of equipment, systems, options, and features. In such times, I can
think of no finer influence than the melodic, romantic voice of William
Atkin, and the artistry and skill of his son, John, as revealed in their
writing and in their boat designs. If we can somehow capture the spirit, the
love, and the authenticity of their work, and make it continue to speak to
us in future years, something precious will be saved, to our lasting benefit
and that of the generations to come.

WHEN PREPARING this article I had dinner with John and Pat Atkin at their
yacht club on Long Island Sound. It was a stormy evening, with thunderstorms
that forced us off the broad lawn and into the building. For a while we
stood on the veranda and watched the rain-filled squalls burst out of the
yellow western sky and rush off across the water into the gray distance,
beyond which lay the lights of Long Island, first visible, and then not.
"William Atkin is out there," said John suddenly. "It's where he wanted to
be." It was literally true, for William's ashes were scattered in the Sound,
according to his wishes, but I also realized that when John looked out at
this familiar water he saw and felt a great deal more than the rest of us
there that evening -- a world in boats spanning most of the 20th century,
which his father and he had savored in every small detail, and furthermore
served to create in many unique and graceful ways, the memories of which
they worked to illustrate and protect, while helping others to get out of it
some of the same joy that they felt.

John passed away in November 1999.

He said in the introduction to a design catalog, "Following in the
course so well covered over [the] many years of Billy Atkin has not always
been easy. But I appreciate the heritage he left me, as well as the many
friends and clients the world over.